


Always an Optimist

by MovesLikeBucky



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is an Optimist, M/M, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), says so right there in the book, through time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29667606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MovesLikeBucky/pseuds/MovesLikeBucky
Summary: Crowley had always been, at heart, an optimist.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 60
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author #13 "Luck"





	Always an Optimist

**Author's Note:**

> Notes to be added once the collection is revealed!

Crowley had always been, at heart, an optimist.

Even before time itself, after he had been cast down, he believed staunchly that things would go his way.He would keep his snout down, keep to the shadows, and eventually everything would be fine.As it was, he was in the right place at the right time, and told to get up there and make some trouble.

Crowley had always been, at heart, a fool.

A flutter of wings, a nervous smile, and he was a goner.The rebellious streak was a bonus, just one more thing to endear an angel to a demon in a way that he had no business indulging in.An angel who talked with his hands and had sparkling eyes that lit up in is passions; be them food or the clever human inventions of whatever time they found their paths crossing. An angel who was, underneath it all, just a bit of a bastard and more than a little chaotic in his own right.

Crowley had always been, at heart, brave.

Over wine he had passed the idea to Aziraphale.An arrangement, something to keep them both from cancelling each other out quite so much.A roll of the dice for more time spent with his hereditary enemy, his oldest and dearest friend.Aziraphale had fidgeted, downed more wine, filled his cup and downed it again before answering.Before admitting that yes, maybe there would be some merit to that.Their sides never paid them much attention at all.And Crowley had smiled.

Crowley had always been, at heart, prepared.

Quick on his feet, quick with a plan.He had to be to survive, It was the only way.But as he watched the bookshop burn, flames climbing high into the rain-soaked skies, he felt it burn in his throat.The rising bile of anxiety and of panic.He pushed it back down, pushed it away and got back in his Bentley.Ludvig von Beethoven lamented about the love of his life and Crowley agreed; but he drove on through Soho and out of London, and through the infra-black beyond.

Crowley had always been, at heart, an optimist.

After the end of all things, in their cottage, he could finally cash in on that bravery, foolishness, and even the optimism.He no longer needed to plan for the worst, because the worst was not coming.He could take his mug of coffee into their living room, plop himself down on their sofa and slither into Aziraphale’s lap.He could ignore the rolling of eyes behind tiny reading frames, and simply enjoy the feel of well manicured nails against his scalp.He could sigh into every kiss, and he could love with his whole being.

And as he did, relishing yet another kiss from his angel, he thought he just might be the luckiest demon that ever lived.


End file.
